


Dads of Daughters

by nealinor



Series: Domestiel Fluff-verse [9]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Kidfic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-30
Updated: 2017-06-30
Packaged: 2018-11-21 07:44:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11352972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nealinor/pseuds/nealinor
Summary: Dean and Cas tackle the challenges of raising two daughters.





	Dads of Daughters

**Author's Note:**

> Another piece of fluff, though with a little kid angst. I'm not even sure it can be described as angst. Someone cries. That's about it. 
> 
> Enjoy!

When they’d adopted girls, Dean knew he was in for some changes in his life. The first change had been the pink. Both he and Cas had agreed that there would be no pink and that princesses were out. They wouldn’t do it for their girls. Cas had gone on to point out that they didn’t need to perpetuate the toxic female stereotypes that went along with those things and that they would raise strong women. That had lasted a whole year. Claire had been three when they’d adopted her, and so they’d put her in preschool right away for her educational development. Unfortunately, this had meant that she was surrounded by other little girls her age who had parents that weren’t so concerned with gender stereotypes. They held out against birthday parties doused in pink with sparkly tiaras and dress up fluffy dresses and fake high heels.

It was inevitable that for her next birthday Claire wanted a doll of the latest movie princess (even though they didn’t remember letting her watch the movie). “It’s okay,” Cas said frowning, “We can still teach her to resist the stereotypes.” Thus assured, they gave Claire what she asked for because neither could bear to see her disappointed.

Krissy was safer for a little while. She was so little that she didn’t care one way or another so it was easy to just fill her room with stuffed animals and the stuff they like; books, star wars, model cars, and whatever else tickled their fancy. Of course, she had to grow up too. By the time she was three and Claire five, both girls wanted princess stuff. (Claire liked the sort with fluffy dresses and Krissy liked the ones that were more active and had weapons... go figure.)

With these preferences came the inevitable feature of a girl’s childhood: the tea party. The girls had bickered over the tea set (Claire wanted pink and Krissy wanted blue) so they had to find a set that was a nice neutral color. (Cas had brought home a white set that had been given to him by a coworker. It had been acceptable to both girls.) The first home tea party had gone well enough. Both girls at their play table with the extra chairs filled with stuff animals with a pot full of pretend tea and pretend cookies and sandwiches on the table. This was good. They were getting along and that’s what Dean cared about.

The next tea party had not go so well.

“No!” Krissy was screaming when Dean came in the room. “I want Mr. Wuzzles to sit there!”

“There isn’t room.” Claire announced, tossing Mr. Wuzzles at Krissy while she put her stuffed cat Pickles in the chair. “Pickles is going to sit here.”

Krissy’s lower lip poked out and her eyes began to fill with tears.

“Hey, hey.” Dean rushed in the room and scooped up Krissy. “Claire, what is going on?”

Both girls began to talk at once. Dean had no clue what they were saying.

Cas appeared at the door. “Maybe we don’t need toys at this tea party. Maybe Daddy and I want to attend instead.”

Both girls squealed with joy.

That was how they ended up where they were right now. Crammed into the tiny table with knees to chest on tinier chairs that Dean was worried wouldn’t hold their weight. (Claire had insisted that they couldn’t sit on the floor, it wasn’t proper.) Both had been smeared with play cosmetics (Both girls had plenty of lip gloss, eyes shadow, and nail polish from birthday party attendance. Who knew it was important to throw away party favors?). Cas was looking spectacular in too much blue eye shadow and over pinked cheeks. Dean had no idea what he looked like but knew it involved smeared pink lipstick and purple eyeshadow. The icing on the cake, however, was the tutus. Dean hadn’t known that they owned so many of the damn things. In fact, they’d had so many that it had been completely possible to string them together with ribbon to make pseudo dresses that were worn around each man’s waist. (Dean was jealous of Cas’s yellow and purple tutu because his own tutu was a conglomeration of every shade of pink known to man.) All four of them were wearing fake tiaras as well. Dean was absolutely sure that someone was going to burst in the door and revoke his man card. Cas, of course, seemed completely unconcerned.

_This will get better as they get older._ Dean told himself as Cas, _yes Cas,_ corrected him _again_ about holding his teacup in the correct manner. (“Why the he…heck to I have to stick my finger out?” “Because that’s the way it’s done, Dean.”) Both girls appeared to be in seventh heaven though as they talked in very poorly formed fancy British accents and told wild stories about what their stuffed animals were doing. All told, he supposed it wasn’t too bad because both his girls were happy.

That night, Cas had slipped up behind him and wrapped his arms around Dean’s waist. With his lips close to Dean’s ear, he’d whispered. “I simply can’t resist you when you have those pretty pink lips. Mr. Winchester, you are a paragon among men to sacrifice your masculinity to please your girls.”

“Yeah, Cas?”

“Of course. I think you deserve a reward.” Hands began to divest him of his clothing.

“How big of a reward?”

“Big.” Cas’s gravelly voice assured him.

Dean decided much later that night that it wasn’t so bad to have tea parties with his daughters.

***

It hadn’t really gotten better with age, simply different. Cas had been okay with the tea parties. It was to be expected and a normal part of girlhood. What he was completely unprepared for was dance class. Dancing was not Castiel’s forte. It never had been. He was a little bit clumsy and tended to step on feet (much to Dean’s pain). Claire, however, had taken to ballet class like a duck takes to water. She adored it. She loved the leotards and the soft dance slippers. She loved tutus and practicing with the barre. She loved when her Dads practiced with her. (Krissy was completely apathetic to dance. She was more of a soccer girl.)

Cas tried. God how he had tried to dance with her, using a chair to substitute for a barre. However, even the simplest plié eluded him. Claire would giggle at him and kiss his cheek when he fell over his own feet, then insist he get up and try again. He would have given up long ago if it hadn’t made Claire so happy for him to try. Dean was much better at the whole dancing thing than he was. For a man so worried about his masculinity, Dean was supportive of Claire and thoroughly patient with endless hours of home practice. Eventually Cas had taken over soccer duties with Krissy and left dance totally up to his husband. (Cas may have been on the All State soccer team in high school and maybe knew a thing or two about it. Dean may or may not have commented about the effect this had on his quads and glutes a time or two… or nightly.)

There was no denying that seeing Dean with Claire melted his heart. He stood by and watched as Dean learned to make a perfect bun for Claire’s first dance recital, complete with glitter spray so she sparkled as much as the other little girls. He saw his husband take to YouTube to learn how to make a fishtail braid so Claire’s hair would look like all her friends for Thursday night dance class. He watched Dean learn how to take yards of tulle and turn it into tutu’s that fit their daughter. (Claire was taller and skinner that most girls her age and needed specially fit dance clothing. “They are charging an arm and a leg for these things, Cas. It’d be cheaper for me to make them at home!”)

All of these things made Cas love him all the more. There were times when Cas looked at Dean and wondered what he’d done right to have deserved such a beautiful, loving, kind man. Moreover, they worked together as a team. While Dean handled dance with Claire, Cas spent his time teaching her about ecology and beekeeping (Yes, they had bees near the back of the house, much to Dean’s discomfort. “What if they are allergic, Cas?” “Dean, both girls are much smarter than you about the bees.” “Hey!” “Face it, you are the only one who’s been stung.”). While Cas spent his time practicing soccer with Krissy and turning her into the all-star soccer player he’d been, Dean taught Krissy how to take care of their cars.

Claire was twelve when she got an invitation to try out for a city wide youth ballet troupe. She was ecstatic about it.

“I am going to make this, Dads!” Claire had announced the day she’d been told about the opportunity while both Dean and Cas had looked at the price tag of joining the troupe (there was a membership fee and she had to get all knew dance clothes) with worry.

That night, Dean had turned to him with his lovely brow knit in worry. “What do we do if she doesn’t get in this, Cas? It’ll break her heart.”

Cas had pressed a kiss to the wrinkles formed by Dean’s worry. “Dean, they have to face adversity on their own. It may break her heart if she doesn’t get in, but we’ll be there for her to dry her tears and help her work towards it for next year.” He’d ushered his husband to bed and had found a way to distract him from the worry, even though he’d shared it.

Dean worked hard with Claire after that. They practiced every day after Claire got out of school. He made a special audition outfit for her and bought her new shoes and tights. The day of the audition, Dean sat with Claire in the bathroom and had tied her hair up into the tight bun that all dancers wore for practice. It was smooth without blemish, as it always was when Dean did it. (Cas had tried a time or two, but despite being able to make a mean braid, buns were not his strength.) Father and daughter sat before the mirror and stared into it. Cas watched from the door.

“Do… do you think I can do this, Dad?” Claire asked, slipping her small fingers into Dean’s much larger hand.

“I think you’ve worked really hard for this.” Dean told her. He kissed the top of her hair. “Sometimes we don’t get what we want, Pumpkin, but it’ll be okay either way.”

“We both love you exactly as you are.” Cas affirmed from the door.

“I know.” Claire said, looking back at herself in the mirror. “I want to make it though.”

“Do your best. That’s all you can do.” Dean said, then jumped up from his seat. “Come on, we don’t want to be late.”

Cas kissed his little girl and wished her luck, then gathered up Krissy to take her to soccer practice. When he got home that night, it was to find a teary eyed Claire.

“There were so many girls there, Daddy, and they were all better than me.” Claire only called Cas Daddy when she was really upset. She crawled into his arms and proceeded to make the shoulder of his shirt very wet with tears.

Cas flicked his gaze to Dean, who looked upset and perhaps a little exhausted. Dean shrugged, which didn’t really help Cas very much. “Did you not get in, sweetheart?”

“I don’t know.” Claire sniffled. “They won’t announce it until next week.”

“Oh, sweetheart.” Cas patted her back. “It’s easy to think that someone is better than you if you are watching from the outside. Those girls may have looked at you and thought the same thing.”

Claire leaned back and blinked teary eyes at him. “Do you think so?”

“Of course.” Cas answered in his typical deadpan. “You don’t know what will happen at all. So let’s wait a week before we give up on it, okay?”

Claire slid from his lap. “Okay. I’ll go get changed.”

As soon as the kitchen was clear of girls, Dean looked at Cas with clear frustration. “How did you do that? I’ve been trying to get her to stop for nearly an hour.”

Cas walked over to his husband (who seemed almost as upset as Claire) and pulled him into his arms too. “She needed to hear it from someone else. You are always her dance champion. I’m not so I seem a little more objective than you.” He found himself rubbing Dean’s back the same way he did Claire’s.

“She did great, Cas. I told her so but she wouldn’t listen to me.” Dean’s voice was a sigh against his neck.

“I know.” Cas began to knead into Dean’s tense shoulder muscles, drawing a moan from him. “You always support her.” He sighed, having a feeling that if Claire didn’t get in, Dean was going to be just as heartbroken. “Were the other little girls honestly better than her?”

Dean shook his head. “Not really. There were a couple there who were but honestly, Cas, she was brilliant. You know she’s the best dancer in her class.”

Cas at least knew this was true. He couldn’t tell if it was all the practice or Claire’s love of dance that made it so. “Then we will hope for the best.” He took Dean’s chin and tilted his head up so he could get at his lips. He’d meant it to be only a short kiss, something to tide them over until after bedtime but Dean seemed to need more than that. Their lips slotted together and they shared breath, swiping at each other with their tongues.

“Oh, gross.” Krissy said, gagging from the door way.

Claire was a little cheekier. “Do we need to ‘go out to play’ or are we going to have dinner sometime tonight?”

Dean pulled away first. “Yeah, yeah. It’s so gross that your Dads love each other.” He grumbled as he made his way to the refrigerator to find something to make for dinner.

Claire made a face at Dean’s back and Cas shooed both girls out of the kitchen to go watch T.V. Cas shook his head as he came back, then settled into the table to keep Dean company while he cooked. (He still wasn’t allowed to do anything in the kitchen at all. “Cas, you can burn water.” “That’s not fair, Dean, you distracted me.” “Oh yeah, but kitchen blow jobs are awesome.” “Awesome _and_ distracting”.) He marveled as he watched Dean, once again thanking his lucky stars for such a man and their incredible family. Whatever came their way, he knew they would face it and be fine. (They found out a week later that Claire had indeed made it into the ballet troupe but what happened from there is a whole different story.)


End file.
